


Of Tombs and Raiders

by staymagical



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Archaeology, Desecration of a tomb, Guns, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Reincarnation, Threats, Tomb Raider AU, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 17:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staymagical/pseuds/staymagical
Summary: After graduating from university with a degree in archaeology, Arthur is determined to finish his late mother's research into a hidden tomb that she died trying to unveil. But her in her journals she stated that, however absurd it may seem, the tomb moves with the cycle of the moon. One day there, the next day gone as though it had never existed.But with no one willing to fund an expedition, he is left to making his own way there. Until an independent benefactor by the name of Khilgharrah approaches him with an offer he can't refuse. Now with his own hand picked team at his back, they journey to Patagonia where the tomb appeared. Working against the clock, they have until the winter solstice to decipher and figure out a way to open the tomb or else it vanishes once again and they are forced to search for it all over again. But Arthur is determined to finish what his mother started and make sure all her hard work and research weren't for naught.





	Of Tombs and Raiders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rotrude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/gifts).



> This is my Merlin Holidays gift for the lovely and fabulous [rotrude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude) who asked for a Tomb Raider AU. I took some inspiration from both the movies and the games, but it's not exact and really just of my own making. Honestly, I squealed a lot when I got you. I have been a HUGE fan of your work for a while now and truly wanted to make a great gift for you. Hope you enjoy it and it was an honor to write this gift for you.

Arthur could feel the cold metal of the gun through his shirt as it nudged into his side. “You first,” Cenred ordered with a grin.

The gaping maw of the tomb opened up before him, looking like nothing more than a deep, dark, foreboding cave where just seconds ago there was rock etched in ancient writing. Celtic writing. He still couldn’t believe it. They were in goddamn Patagonia, that shouldn’t have been possible for how old the tomb was. Morgana had been prepared to transcribe Yámana when they’d journeyed down here, not Celtic. Though thankfully, she was well-versed in both, the latter more than the former. It had still taken them way too long to decipher the ancient script, figure out the meaning and trial and error their way through solutions. Arthur still couldn’t believe they had figured it out. A part of him still felt like he cheated, getting clues from his dreams of a time very different from his own where knights and kings roamed and the world was infused with a bit of magic. Though now, he couldn’t quite bring himself to dismiss them as mere dreams. They felt too real. And the cave entrance had just crumbled before them with a few spoken words and the right touches.

Science could only explain so much here.

The gun prodded into his side once more and Arthur had to shift his weight in order to not stumble. The tomb mocked him, promising secrets and treasures he no longer had any desire to uncover. Not if it led to this. To Cenred and Morgause taking control and passing it off to Lord Sigan to do god only knows what. Frankly, Arthur didn’t care to find out. It wouldn’t be good, either way.

Arthur looked to his right and caught Morgana’s eye, the early morning sun rays setting her dark hair alight. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Morgana leveled him with an unamused scowl. Yeah, he hadn’t fooled himself either.

But before she could scrounge up a retort, Cenred grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him, causing her to stumble against his body.

Morgana gasped, angry. “Let go you worthless piece of—”

Cenred just smirked and aimed his next words at Arthur. “You aren’t in charge here, Pendragon. She’s coming along for the ride.” Arthur tensed as the gun’s pressure was removed from his side only to rest against Morgana’s temple. She stilled against Cenred but her murderous glare never wavered. Cenred blew a kiss at her. “Jarl, Cedric, Kanen, wait here and keep a close eye on the others. The rest of you, with me.”

Cenred’s men leveled their guns at the rest of Arthur’s crew. Arthur looked back at them, schooling his features into something reassuring as he met each of their eyes. In turn, they nodded encouragement, Gwen smiling softly with Lance protectively beside her and Elena a bit in front, some foliage from the surrounding trees stuck in her hair. Gwaine and Percival stood behind the other three, the former sporting his trademark grin as the latter scowled disapprovingly.

It had been a whirlwind expedition, while it had lasted. Arthur just hoped that if nothing else, the rest of them made it out of this alive and the tomb’s treasures were kept out of enemy hands. He would fight until his last breath to ensure it.

With that thought and a pointed smirk from Cenred, Arthur walked forward into the belly of the cave.

* * *

They walked for a stint, the path bending and curving every once in a while before they were forced to pause. Before Arthur stood tunnels carved out of dense rock and stone, full of twists and turns and sharp edges. The light from their torches cast shadows along the rough walls but the three separate pathways left no room for questions. And when Cenred ordered one of his men to scout it out, he returned and confirmed Arthur’s suspicions.

Of course it was a goddamn maze.

Arthur would have groaned if a strange sense of deja vu hadn’t washed over him. He squinted into the darkness, not understanding what part of blank rock walls had triggered the feeling. Normally, he would brush it off, thinking it nothing more than just an inconsequential memory popping up but the way the whole expedition had been going, he didn’t push it aside.

Had he been here before?

He was sure he hadn’t. No one had. His mother had been trying for nearly a decade to crack the secrets of the tomb and all she got from it was five journals worth of maddening research, a hard blow to her reputation, and a comfortable plot in the town cemetery back home. That hadn’t discouraged Arthur though, not when his father forbade his career choice, not when he read his mother’s notes describing implausible happenings and magical reasoning, and not when Cenred’s men had tried to drive them away from the tomb once he finally found it again. Twice now the tomb had escaped him, both times he had arrived too late or only had a few days with it before it disappeared again.

Because his mother had been right. The tomb moved.

It only stayed in one place as long as the moon cycle, disappearing as though it never existed the next time the full moon lit the night. Arthur had no explanation for it, and his mother in all her journals and research hadn’t either. The best either of them could come up with was old ancients rituals, a hallucinogen surrounding the tomb, or—

Magic.

Arthur would have never believed it if he hadn’t witnessed the tomb disappearing in front of his eyes the first time he found it.

Truly, there wasn’t anything that could surprise him anymore. Not even a maze buried in a magical moving tomb in the heart of a Patagonia mountain—well, this time around. Who knew where the tomb would end up next.

Perhaps there wouldn’t be a next time. Once breached, did the tomb remain where it lay? Or if the full moon fell while someone was inside, did it transport them with it? Either way, they were about to find out. Tonight was the winter solstice, the night before the full moon. He just needed to find the ancient artifacts and treasures that belonged to Mr. Kilgharrah’s ancestors and his mission was done. If the tomb remained here, he’d continue his mother’s research, take his time to unearth all the tomb had to offer. But if it disappeared tomorrow, would he really start all over again tracking it down?

Probably. For his mother.

But for now, he just needed to focus on getting to whatever treasures this tomb held. He could discover all the other pieces later. Preferably when there wasn’t a gun in his face or threat hanging over his head.

Arthur stared up at the archway over the entrance to the maze. Delicate Celtic writing carved into the top of the arch was bordered by swirls and knots with curving designs blending into one another reaching all the long the arch to the floor.

Though whatever ancient civilization created such a tomb clearly had a sense of humor.

“Are you sure?”

Morgana nodded, stepping closer to peer at the ancient script carved into the archway above the entrance to the maze. “Quite.”

“Unicorn’s curse?” Arthur repeated, raising an eyebrow at the words. He trusted Morgana completely and she was one of the best paleographers in the UK. It was thanks to her that they had even gotten this far. But that sounded a bit far-fetched to even Arthur’s new refined ears.

“I am not in the mood for games, woman,” Cenred growled, grabbing Morgana’s arm and yanked her around to face him. Arthur shouted in protest but Morgause held him in place with a smirk and a gun aimed at Arthur’s face. He glowered at the woman.

Morgana snatched her arm back and punched Cenred in the jaw so hard, Arthur was sure the others at the entrance heard the echoes. “If you hadn’t murdered your own paleographer, he would have told you the same,” she spat out, fists clenched in an effort to restrain herself. Arthur knew that pose all too well, having been on the receiving end of it a handful of times. Cenred looked ready to retaliate in kind but seemed to think better of it and just flipped the safety of his gun. Morgana didn’t even flinch, but her voice was more even as she continued. “‘Let the unicorn’s curse guide your way.’ A rough translation, but that’s the gist of what it says.”

Arthur glanced up at the carvings, following the detailed Celtic knots and designs down as they traced the edge of the archway all the way to the cave floor. A sudden feeling, an urge came over him. On instinct he stepped closer, all his professors’ teachings and knowledge screaming at him to not touch the fragile ancient carvings. Though if his touch had worked before on the entrance…

Feather-light, he brushed a finger over the edge of the carvings, where the archway met the cave walls.

_The ocean waves crashed against the rocky shore as Arthur watched the young man sitting before him. He could smell the salt in the air, hear the gulls lamenting overhead as the cold breeze brushed against his skin._

“ _I had no idea you were so keen to die for me”_

_“Trust me, I can hardly believe it myself.”_

Arthur sucked in a silent breath as he was thrust back into the torchlit tomb. He felt overwhelmed by the same sensation that had rushed through him when he’d first touched the tomb entrance. The same sensation, the same feeling, the same warmth he had after every dream during the expedition.

No, he was completely convinced now they weren’t dreams.

He had been here before. The deja vu surged up stronger than before, washing through him fast before fading. But it left a mark, a feeling in his chest he couldn’t describe. Something he was sure he couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to.

Well, instincts had led him this far, might as well let them take the lead.

“What are you doing?”

Arthur ignored Cenred’s scowl and Morgause’s gun still aimed at him and continued into the maze. “Following my instincts.”

He had barely taken another two steps before a shot rang out loud and angry in the confined space just as something whizzed past his ear. Arthur ducked on instinct, hearing the bullet ping as it ricocheted off the maze walls ahead as Morgana shouted out in alarm behind him.

Arthur whipped around just as Cenred cocked the gun again.

“Jesus,” Arthur shouted, glaring daggers at the man, “are you trying to get us all killed?!”

Cenred just raised an eyebrow and tilted the gun in Morgana’s direction. “Must I remind you who is in charge here?” Morgana folded her arms across her chest and leaned away from Cenred, disgust rolling off her in waves.

As if Arthur could have forgotten.

“You have a better idea?!” Arthur threw up his hands, ready to just let it all go to hell if Cenred would shut the fuck up and just get on with it. He gestured to the branching tunnels. “Feel free to take the lead if you so desire. Or go your own way and we can compare notes at the end. If you survive.”

Cenred barked a cruel laugh. “What makes you think your way is any better? For all we know, you could be leading us to our deaths.”

“Nothing, but if there is anything,” Arthur pointed a finger at his chest, feeling oddly calm despite the ever-present looming threats all around, “I’ll be leading and take the brunt of it. Any other complaints?”

Cenred scowled at Arthur but remained silent with nothing more than a shrug of his shoulders.

Arthur nodded his head and turned back toward the cave, taking the right-hand tunnel without hesitation. “Then shut up and follow.”

He didn’t even wait to see if the others would follow, the answering footsteps of boots on stone told him at least Morgana did. He knew she would. And where the bargaining chips went—

More footsteps joined Morgana’s. Arthur rolled his eyes. He was done with this charade.

Done with this whole scenario, truly. Cenred was a coward, a cheat through and through, solely here for material and monetary gain and nothing more. And clearly, he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. But Arthur was fed up. His crew had been threatened, harassed, sabotaged, and nearly killed by Cenred, Morgause, and their various cronies since the moment they landed on this island. And now, with the rest of his crew held hostage with who knew what happening to them and Arthur and Morgana being led further into the tomb at gunpoint, things were looking bleak.

And Arthur was done. Fuck it all. He was done playing by Cenred’s rules, done bending to his every whim, done cowering before the man’s guns and threats and greed. He was just done.

“Arthur.” There was an edge of warning behind Morgana’s tone as she caught up to him.

Arthur waved her off, taking the first right at another branch off and then immediately left. “It’s fine, I have the strangest feeling I’ve been here before.”

Morgana just raised her eyebrows but made no further comment, falling into step just behind him.

Footsteps gained on him, their pace faster as the person hurried to catch up. Arthur didn’t even bother wasting time to see who it was and turned right again down another tunnel.

Cenred’s harsh tone coming from his left confirmed his suspicions. “You fuck us over Pendragon and your sister won’t make it out of here alive.”

“None of us will,” Arthur muttered under his breath, taking another right after bypassing a few more tunnel branches. Morgana sighed behind him, clearly sensing his mood had changed and having the foresight to understand what that meant.

But when Arthur chanced a glance back at her to gauge her reaction, he was surprised to see a sly grin had split across her face.

The rest of the maze was traversed in silence punctured here and there by whispered words shared between Cenred and Morgause a few paces behind Arthur. He ignored them for the most part, focusing on following the instincts that laid out the correct path through the maze. He couldn’t quite explain it. It wasn’t a glowing path or a painted line that he had to follow it was more like a feeling. An urge to turn where he needed to turn or a path that felt warmer and less threatening than the others. It told him when to turn but he also had a feeling it was directing him down a safer route because, despite the ominous feeling of the maze with its dark twists and claustrophobic feeling, they never encountered any sort of trap or resistance. Much to Arthur’s annoyance. He had hoped to meet some sort of threat if only for the possibility that Cenred or Morgause could get caught in it.

Pity it never happened.

“I swear Pendragon if you are leading us—”

Morgana spoke up before Arthur had even opened his mouth. “Yes yes yes, you’ll kill us all, flay us alive, blah blah blah,” she retorted, waving her hand in the air in emphasis. Arthur gave her a sidelong glance, pleased to see she looked just as done with this whole thing as he was. She caught his gaze and rolled her eyes. “Save it, Cenred. We know.”

“You’re not exactly in a position to—”

“We’re here,” Arthur cut in.

The maze spat them out into a large cavern, the echoes of their footsteps and voices the only indication. In the dim light of their torches, Arthur could barely see a few meters in front of him, the rest of the space swallowed up by the ever-present darkness.

“Well that was anticlimactic,” Cenred stated with a huff. “I was expecting more of a challenge.”

“That can be arranged,” Arthur muttered. He swung the beam of his torch through the darkness, hoping to catch sight of something, anything before they walked blindly into who knew what. A small raised bowl in front of him caught his eye then and Arthur stepped forward and directed his torch toward it. It almost resembled a chalice, gold with intricate engravings along the edges with a pile of something dark and dry nestled at the bottom inside. But it was fixed into the stone floor with grooves running from either side leading toward the outer walls and running along toward the other edge of the cavern. Recognition sparked in Arthur and he almost laughed at the hilarity of it, sure he had seen such a thing in a movie once.

“Anyone have a lighter?” Arthur glanced over his shoulder at the others.

Morgause stepped forward, keeping her gun aimed in his general direction as she dug into her pants pocket. She pressed a lighter into Arthur’s hand and he flicked it a couple time before it finally lit.

He held it over the cup until the flame caught into the dried bits in the cup and triggered a chain reaction. The fire spread, racing along the grooves to the outer reaches of the cavern, lighting the room a with dancing flames as it traveled further. In just under a minute, the entire cavern was awash in firelight.

“This can’t be the end!” Cenred bellowed, pushing past Arthur further into the cavern, angry footsteps echoing harshly off the walls. “There’s nothing bloody here.”

“There’s a door over there.”

Arthur glanced back at Morgause and followed her line of sight to the opposite side of the cavern. There, carved into the stone wall and barely distinguishable was what could only be described as an arched door frame. Arthur wouldn’t have seen it if the firelight hadn’t thrown it into relief.

Without waiting for the others, Cenred strode forward, taking the lead. That was perfectly fine by Arthur. There was no saying what lay hidden along the path to the door. And he didn’t want to be the one to trigger them.

But of course, nothing bloody happened.

“Great,” Cenred groaned coming to a stop before the doorway, “more ancient writing. Perfect.”

Arthur ignored Cenred’s remark and instead strode passed and choosing to focus on studying the other carvings and writing around the doorway. It was the same vein of Celtic writing as before, that much Arthur could tell. More intricate knots and stylistic designs decorated the frame of the doorway, coming to a point at the top where a delicate triangle sat, its three points branching off into winding curls. The symbol seemed familiar somehow. Perhaps he had seen it somewhere, in one of his texts or papers from uni. Or had his mother copied the symbol down in one of her journals?

But neither seemed likely. He knew if it was familiar here, he hadn’t seen it in the waking world.

“What does it say?” Cenred growled, breaking Arthur out of his musing. He glanced over at his sister.

Morgana had her notebook out and open, her pen scratching against the page. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought she was copying down the Celtic text on the doorway. But he could see she was copying the Celtic triangle, tracing the lines over and over, silently contemplating her actions.

She already knew what the script said.

Arthur sighed. “Morgana just—”

The audible click of a released safety on a gun echoed through the cavern. With a few quick footsteps, a cold muzzle kissed the back of Arthur’s head. “Look, you’re not really in a position to rebel, Miss Le Fey. So I suggest you do as I say before my finger decide to slip—” the muzzle shifted against Arthur’s skull, digging in harder “—and I blow a hole in dear Arthur’s brain.”

Morgana’s calm demeanor didn’t falter. She made a few more swirling traces of the triangle design in her notebook before with gently closing it and storing it in her jacket as though she had not a care in the world. Next to him, Arthur felt Cenred tense, his anger rising like the tide as his patience thinned. Arthur huffed.

“You wouldn’t,” Morgana said finally, her tone nonchalant. “You need him.”

Cenred paused, shifting his weight slightly behind Arthur.

“Oh do I? Perhaps.” The muzzle pressure disappeared from Arthur’s head then and he had a moment of shock and confusion before it returned to push bruisingly hard against the back of his shoulder. “But I don’t need him whole.”

Arthur shivered. Cenred was a coward, he knew that, but he was a cruel coward. He would have no qualms in pulling the trigger.

Morgana seemed to come to the same conclusion. “I hope you rot in hell,” she spat, nonchalance replaced by a fiery rage promising retribution.

“I’ll see you there, sweetheart.” Cenred winked.

Morgana glared at Cenred for a beat longer before staring back up at the inscription above the door. Then she seemed to lose focus, her eyes glazing over, fixed on the Celtic writing.

_“The king shall return when the people’s need is at its greatest_

_But to succeed he cannot journey into battle alone_

_Beyond lays his past present and future, the treasure of his heart_

_Let the crystals revive what has been forgotten and warn to what will come to be_

_Because only the half can awaken that which makes it whole_

_To c_ _ontinue the never-ending cycle of their fate”_

Arthur stared at Morgana as she blinked and shot Arthur a sidelong glance. He had never heard her transcribe an ancient text with such precision, so specifically. As though she was just reading plain English off the walls. Usually, her sentences and texts were more broad or general to be interpreted as desired. Not word for word. Not sounding like a—

Like a prophecy.

Cenred was the first to break the silence. “What the hell does that mean?” No one answered. Cenred pushed the gun further into Arthur’s shoulder. “How do we get in?”

“How should I know?” Arthur huffed. “It sounds more like a prophecy than a riddle instructing us how to enter.”

“That’s not good enough, Pendragon.”

Arthur turned to face Cenred, staring him right in the eye. “Then you figure it out for once.”

“King.” All eyes turned to Morgause. She waved her gun up at the words on the wall. “It mentions a king. Perhaps it means—”

“Me,” Cenred finished, straightening where he stood.

Morgana snorted. “You?”

“Cenred _King_ ,” Cenred stated, puffing out his chest a bit more. “Who else could it be referring to?”

“Well then oh mighty king of old, open the door.”

Cenred took just a moment of hesitation before striding toward the stone door and placing his hand on the rock surface in the center of the inlet.

They all held their breath.

After a minute, a leak of laughter broke the silence and every eye turned to Morgause.

“You didn’t honestly think you were _the king_ , did you?” Morgause chuckled, full of savage callousness. With a gesture at Morgana, she continued. “Besides how do we know she’s even telling us the truth? She could have made up that little fairytale.”

“She didn’t.”

Arthur barely registered all eyes shifting to him with his words. He didn’t elaborate, mind whirling too much to focus on anything else.

Something in him had awoken with the riddle—prophecy, he was sure of it—and he was caught up in it. Images from his dreams over the past three weeks flashed across his vision; a white castle; red capes blowing in the wind; glinting swords and mystic lakes; and drastic quests across deserted landscapes and through abandoned fortresses. And surrounded by knights in red capes and kings in bejeweled crowns and women’s in elegant timeless dresses.

And always by his side, a faceless man, one donned in weathered browns and threadbare blues with a hint of fraying red around his neck and constant talk of kings and fate.

_It is your fate to be the greatest King Camelot has ever known_

“Arthur?” Morgana’s voice filtered through and Arthur blinked, snapping back to the present. He had his hand stretched out in front of him, palm a mere hairsbreadth from the doorway with no memory of having stepped nearer. But he wasn’t concerned. Because although it didn’t completely make sense, Arthur knew what he had to do.

He pressed his palm to the doorway.

Immediately it flashed blue bright light and Arthur had to turn away lest he be blinded. The stone beneath Arthur’s hand crumbled with a crack and a rumble of tumbling rock and Arthur turned back to face the newly created door.

A long stone tunnel opened up before him, the light from the cavern only penetrating a few meters into it. But down at the other end, a soft glowing blue light shone, bouncing off the stone walls as they curved to the right. Arthur squinted, trying to make out the source of the light but the tunnel curved too much to see anything but stone and faint light.

Someone behind Arthur huffed in annoyance, reminding him he wasn’t alone here. He glanced over his shoulder taking in the surprise, satisfaction and, from Cenred, annoyance, and anger. But Arthur couldn’t find it in himself to be pleased with the look. He had opened the door, he had brought them this far and was no closer to taking control of the situation than before. They were still being held at gunpoint, forced to do Cenred’s bidding. This was not how Arthur had hoped to finish his mother’s work.

He’d just have to change that, and soon. Somehow.

“No matter.” Cenred’s smirk was back on his face as he raised the gun at Arthur once more. “Lead the way oh mighty king.”

The soft glowing blue light grew brighter the closer they got, bouncing off the bend in the cave up ahead and throwing all their features into sharp relief. Arthur couldn’t fathom what would create such a light especially down here in the dark tomb. Elena had once mentioned lichen or some sort of plant she had come across when she had dabbled in lichenology that was bioluminescent but he was sure she had said that was only under ultraviolet light. Or something of the sort. He didn’t know, he wasn’t the biologist of their group.

Only one way to find out. Arthur held his breath, fearful and yet thrilled to discover what secrets the tomb held. He turned the corner of the tunnel.

And stared in shock at the room before him.

The cave was large and natural, with jagged walls and sharp edges where the tunnels and caves previously had been clearly carved and man-made. But it was the source of the glow that really caught his eye. Iridescent and luminous crystals filled the entirety of the cave from the floor, spreading up along the walls, and to the rock ceiling. They were semi-translucent, octogonal or multi-sided tall shapes that came to points or broke off into branches of smaller crystals the bigger they got. And each one reflected off the others creating a luminescent soft blue glow that permeated the darkness and illuminated the whole space.

Arthur stood frozen awestruck at the tomb before him. At last, he had found it, he had succeeded. He had discovered what his mother had spent her whole career and lost her life trying to get to.

The heart of the tomb.

“Jackpot.” Cenred’s shoulder rammed hard into Arthur as he pushed past him, his eyes gleaming with greed and the soft blue glow as he approached a massive crystal. Arthur stumbled to the side, thrown off balance in Cenred’s haste, and caught himself on a crystal. The moment his hands made contact with the smooth crystalline surface, his eyes blurred out and the cave around him vanished.

_Hay and mud littered the street of the market as merchants shouted out, selling their wares to the townspeople. But Arthur only had eyes for the young disheveled young man across from him. A disrespectful, sarcastic, intriguing peasant from gods only knew where standing up against him, the crowned prince. He was floored and yet, amused and drawn to this young man who didn’t seem to care about the danger he was willingly putting himself in._

_“Look I’ve told you you’re an ass, I just didn’t know you were a royal one.”_

_Arthur couldn’t help but smile at the bravery he found in those bright blue eyes._

The scene changed then, morphing.

_Arthur was sitting at a table, his heart filled with grief and guilt and an overwhelming need to do something. Because Merlin was dying due to his own actions or inactions rather and that wasn’t right. That’s not how it should ever be._

_“I can’t stand by and watch him die.”_

The scene changed once more, faster, and Arthur struggled to keep up.

_“I just didn’t fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere that I did.”_

_Arthur lay on his back but he could feel the boy in the next bed, his sorrow and desire for a better life nad he wanted to be that, he wanted to give him that. He wanted to give him everything he never had and everything he ever wanted. But he couldn’t, not as they were. Showing favoritism was inviting scrutiny and that was dangerous for Arthur, for Merlin. All he could do was offer a bit of comfort and hope that with the right push, Merlin found what he wanted, what he needed._

_“Had any luck?” Arthur asked, trying to sound casual though his heart was breaking._

_“I’m not sure yet.”_

A wave of nostalgia washed over Arthur as the scene changed again, quicker this time.

_Merlin’s face was serious but his voice sincere as he said, "I'm happy to be your servant, until the day I die."_

_And though he didn’t say it, Arthur was happy Merlin was with him. Was happy he had met and found Merlin. He couldn’t wish for a better person by his side._

And changed again as his brain, his memories struggled to keep up.

_“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, the words tinged with just a speck of the guilt and sincerity he desired to display to Merlin. He should be groveling at his feet and bathing him in the love and affection he felt for him every day. “I shouldn’t have risked your life like that.”_

_Merlin shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well. They do say love makes you do strange things…”_

_Arthur couldn’t agree more._

Changing faster. Rushing past at a dizzying pace.

_“Look on the bright side: you’ve still got me!”Merlin’s face was pleased, blinding and Arthur’s heart soaked it up._

_“Is that supposed to cheer me up?”_

_Merlin shrugged innocently smug as they walked through the main square. “Thought it might.”_

_Arthur hid his amusement behind an eye-roll. “You really are a complete idiot, aren’t you Merlin?”_

_You’re my idiot._

Faster still.

_“I am an open book”_

_“I don’t believe that for a second.”_

Again.

_“And what would you know about magic Merlin?”_

_“Nothing.”_

And again.

_“If I need a servant in the next life.”_

_“Don’t ask me.”_

Jumping from scene to scene as though living a life permanently on fast-forward but out of order. A life he knew so well and yet not at all.

_“Merlin, if I die, please..”_

_“What”_

_“The dragonlord today. I saw you. One thing I tell all my young knights_ — _no man is_

_worth your tears.”_

_“Yeah. You're certainly not.”_

Arthur was crying tears of his own now even as the scenes continued to flash by.

_“Do you know how many times I've had to save your royal backside”_

Too many to count. A pounding headache built up as the scenes continued without pause.

_“Merlin, what exactly are you going to do?”_

_“I'm going to be at your side_ — _like I always am, protecting you._

Merlin.

_“You've been here all night?”_

_“I didn't want you to feel that you were alone.”_

He never had been.

 _“Just_ — _just hold me”_

Just as suddenly as they had begun, the visions stopped and he was once again surrounded by the soft glowing blue light and the stone tomb as his hands left the crystal's surface.

He remembered.

He remembered Camelot, his knights, his father. He remembered the quests and hunting trips, the wars and battles. He remembered friendships gained, love found and lives lost. He remembered the joy and guilt and affection and grief and resolve of a time that was more complex and yet simpler. A time where love was ripe yet raw and his heart was constantly full and yet yearning.

A time that was both then and now. Gwen, Morgana, Leon, Lancelot, Percival, Elena, even Cenred and Morgause, he knew them all, they were all still here. Or rather, they were back, just as he was.

Except...

Merlin.

How could Arthur have ever forgotten Merlin? His constant companion, always by his side no matter how grave the situation had been nor how the odds had been stacked against them. His advisor, his entertainment, a thorn in his side. The keeper to his heart. His love. His destiny.

Arthur’s vision blurred, this time from the onslaught of tears that had gently been flowing. He felt a grief, full-blown and fierce that caused his heart to ache and his lungs to constrict. A sob escaped his lips, both for regrets of the past and what was missing from the present.

Merlin wasn’t here.

As though the thought had roused something, a hum, like a gentle calming call tingled through Arthur’s body to his bones. He blinked the tears from his eyes and looked up, eyes drawn to the center of the tomb. Or more importantly, to what at in the center of the tomb.

So caught up in the glowing crystals before, Arthur had failed to notice the raised dais perched in the middle of the tomb. The thin winding path bare of crystals led straight to its base where Arthur could feel the gentle hum originating. And like waves calling a sailor to the sea, the dais called to Arthur.

Arthur brushed up against something as he blindly stepped toward the path and he looked beside him to find Morgause, her body hunched over a large crystal, gaze fixated on its surface, eyes glassy and wide open with something akin to horror. Arthur took a step back, shocked and disturbed, knowing he had just been caught in the same sort of trance. His back bumped into someone else and he whirled around finding Cenred’s man in the same trance, silent tears streaming down his face.

Arthur wiped his cheeks of his own evidence and shuddered.

But despite the pain and horror written on their faces, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to shake them from their stupor. Then they’d be right back where they started, with him and Morgana held at gunpoint, forced to degrade and destroy this ancient tomb for the greed of a tyrant.

Morgana.

Arthur whirled around, pushing the incessant hum to the back of his mind as his fear for his sister took over. If anything had happened to her, if she had been hurt while he had been distracted, he would never forgive himself.

But he spotted her quickly enough just a few paces away, entranced by a crystal at the entrance to the tomb. Not a second later she let out a loud gasp and stumbled away from the crystal as though burned. Arthur rushed forward, steadying her with a hand to her elbow as she teetered.

Morgana flinched at his touch, her head shooting up, eyes meeting his, pleading. There were tears in her eyes. “Arthur?”

“Morgana?” Arthur asked, shocked by the grief and anguish that was laid bare on her face. He tightened his grip on his shoulder as his concern mounted. “Are you alright?”

“Arthur, I’m so sorry, for everything.” Morgana shook her head, but whether it was in response to his question or if she was still stuck in whatever she had seen in her memories, Arthur didn’t know. She grasped at his arms, tighter. “I was blinded by hate, driven by power. I destroyed everything, ruined lives, destroyed the kingdom. I nearly killed you!”

Arthur shook his head. “But you didn’t, it wasn’t your fault. It’s alright, Morgana.”

“How do you not hate me.”

“I never hated you.” Arthur’s heart clenched, cracking at the seams at her words.

Morgana stared at him, eyes full of shame and guilt and fear as she clutched him. With a choking sob, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. Arthur held her, putting all the love and forgiveness and respect her carried for her.

“You should.” She sniffled into his shirt. “I do.”

Arthur hugged her harder. “The past is the past, Morgana. You are no longer the person you once were. This one, this woman that I know now, that’s the only woman who matters right now.”

Morgana let out a choking laugh then and stepped back out of his arms even as a few more tears escaped her eyes. “You really are the true king of old.” She chuckled again, wiping her eyes as she met his gaze. “God, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“No you will not,” Arthur said with a grin.

The mood turned solemn then as the weight of what had occurred, of why they were back, fell over them. And of course who was missing.

As though she had read his thoughts, Morgana spoke up. “Where—where’s Merlin?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur said with another shake of his head, he felt the hole in his heart like a missing limb now and briefly wished he had never learned of Merlin and how much he had meant to him if only to save him from the pain of his absence. But he quickly dispelled that thought. Better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all. “He hasn’t—I haven’t seen him yet. Not in this life.”

“Do you think he’s—”

Arthur waved off her question, knowing where her mind was going and not wanting to hear his own fears spoken aloud. “I don’t know, Morgana, I don’t know.”

Though his heart ached with worrying about what had befallen his love, where he was currently residing if he was even alive still. But the incessant humming came back to the forefront of Arthur’s mind and he knew he couldn’t worry about Merlin just yet. He had to finish what they started here and then he could focus on tracking down his missing manservant.

Arthur held out his hand to her without taking his eyes off the dais and felt Morgana’s warm hand slip into his. His heart still ached from the memories that were still settling in his mind and he took comfort from having his sister there with him by his side as they moved forward through this new era and a new golden age.

With cautious movements, afraid of getting sucked back into the enticing depths of the crystals, Arthur stepped onto the path, tugging Morgana with him. The humming increased, more of a pleased trill now and Arthur felt a wave of calm and certainty wash over him. This was where his life had been leading him. This was where he was meant to be at this moment.

They weaved through the crystals following the path to the center. Anticipation shivered through Arthur’s limbs, setting his heart racing and his blood pumping. When they stepped up to the dais, Arthur froze as Morgana beside him gasped.

The dais was not empty.

Upon the stone surface, laid out like an offering to the gods, was a body. Legs stiff and arms flush against the torso, the skin was grey and lifeless, like it was carved from the very stone it lay upon. The man—for the body was clearly male—was thin, donned in nothing but a pair of simple white trousers and loose tunic. A white silk shroud intricately embroidered with gold thread lay with care over the body’s head, obscuring the man’s features.

“I’ve never seen a body so well preserved.” Morgana gasped, slipping her hand from Arthur’s in order to inch closer to the dais. She leaned down to peer closer at the body’s arm. “The flesh is intact, the hair, the nails, not a shred of decomposition or decay. It looks like he died just hours ago, not centuries.”

Arthur remained where he was, staring a the body in shock and horror. The archeologist part of him was astounded and wanted nothing more than to study and preserve the body, find a way to keep it as it was to learn everything they could from it. But the other part of Arthur, the part that had just been woken by swirling memories of a life long ago, was too afraid to move any closer.

Because he couldn’t help but notice, despite the strange scenario, surroundings, and clothing, that the body was achingly familiar.

The lanky limbs, the shoulders disguising lean muscles, the elegant curve of his body, the contour of his expert hands. Arthur had spent too many minutes, hours, days of his past life studying those features. Every plane and line of his body he committed to memory, knowing one day he’d have to make a difficult choice, whether concerning love or concerning magic. There was no mistake. He knew this man, deep down he knew who it was.

But if he never found out what lay beneath the shroud, he could remain ignorant, still hopeful.

“Arthur?” Morgana’s voice sounded far away, like from the other side of a clearing inhabited by buzzing insects. When had the humming gotten louder? The draw toward the dais stronger. But It wasn’t the dais that was calling to him now, it was the body.

With detached realization, Arthur understood that this body, the man that may upon the dais was what had drawn him through the tomb all along. Perhaps he had even been calling out to him from the moment he stepped on this earth. The drive, the desire to explore to discover, to study the past, was it possible it had always stemmed from this point? Could it be that his fate had been calling him, his—

Arthur reached forward, his desire and need to know the truth far outweighing his fear. He had to know. He would never be able to live with himself, always regretting this moment if he didn’t.

“Arthur what are you doing? Don’t touch—”

He ripped off the shroud before Morgana could stop him and they both stepped back with a gasp.

He hadn’t wanted it to be true, had hoped that he was out there in the world, reborn as they all had been. But he could no longer delude himself, not anymore. The dark unruly hair, the sharp angular facial features, the long black eyelashes fanned across his cheeks.

It was Merlin, cold, grey, lifeless.

Arthur’s heart shattered with a soft audible keen, eyes pinching tight, trying to block out the image of his first and last love, laid out before him no longer part of this world. In the span of two minutes, he felt like he had found, ignited, and lost the love of his life. The love of both his lives now. Because he knew, now that he had had a taste of the love he had for Merlin, that he would never find anything else in this world or the next that could compare.

“Oh, Arthur.” Sorrow saturated Morgana’s voice as he felt her attention turn to him. Her hand touched his shoulder in a meaningless show of comfort. Nothing could comfort him in the wake of such a discovery.

“Merlin,” he croaked, his fingertips brushing against Merlin’s sharp cheekbones up to his temples. The skin was ice cold to the touch, his hair wispy and frail. Nothing like the warmth or softened that Arthur remembered and he crumbled just a little bit more inside.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, unable to gaze upon the body of the man who was once so full of life. Who was once the light in Arthur’s life. It was too painful to see that light extinguished. He wondered how it had happened, how he had come to be like this. How he had died and yet wasn’t reborn like the rest of them. Why had the gods been so cruel to Merlin? To Arthur.

“Arthur!” The urgency in Morgana’s voice broke Arthur out of his grief and his eyes shot open, fearing the worst. But when he met Morgana’s eyes, she wasn’t looking at him, but staring down at Merlin’s body, eyes wide with shock, confusion, and—was that hope?

And when Arthur looked down at Merlin once more, a shiver ran down his spine. Where Merlin’s skin was once lifeless and grey, now a tinge of color permeated the dullness as though blood was pumping through his veins. Arthur couldn’t breathe, keeping so still as though one wrong movement would break the spell and Merlin would revert back to lifeless grey and turn into the stone that he had so resembled. But the color spread, creeping down his arms, turning them from grey to a more sallow paleness. Almost as though—

With a violent inhale Merlin jerked upright, blue eyes opening wide.

“Arthur.”

* * *

Arthur was frozen where he stood, afraid that if he so much as breathed, he would wake up and find this was all a dream and Merlin was still dead or missing. Hope and joy and fear and sorrow welled up inside him, warring for dominance as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

“You’re here,” Merlin said, wistful. He reached up to cup Arthur’s cheek, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I knew you would come, I knew you would return. No one believed me. The druids said that—”

Arthur shook his head, his vision blurring with tears, too overwhelmed with emotion that he was fit ready to burst. His heart was pounding like it wanted nothing more than to break free of its cage and fly free. Arthur felt like he could do the same. He choked back tears. This was real. Merlin was here, he was alive, he was here. This was real. “Merlin—”

“Speaking of, where are those conniving little traitors?!” Merlin leaned sideways on the dais, trying to see beyond Arthur as though he expected the druids to be there. “They tried to—Morgana?”

Morgana looked hesitant, like she expected to be blasted across the room. Arthur didn’t blame her. The last time Merlin had seen her, she hadn’t exactly been friendly. “Hey Merlin,” she said, voice wary.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, his gaze never leaving Morgana’s. She took a step back, guarded for his reaction.

“Relax Merlin.” Arthur placed a comforting hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “She’s a friend this time around. Truly my sister.”

Merlin looked at Arthur, skepticism in his eyes. But after a minute, he nodded in understanding. Then his face scrunched up in confusion. “This time around?”

A spark of guilt and sorrow shot through Arthur. He wasn’t sure what Merlin knew or what he was aware of but something was telling him he had been down in this tomb for longer than he was aware of. “Merlin, there’s something—”

“What are you wearing?” Arthur's heart sank further as Merlin finally took in the details his relief and joy had clouded. His gaze raked up and down Arthur’s body making Arthur want to hide, want to keep the truth from him for just a little bit longer. Perhaps Merlin had known how long he’d wait here. Perhaps he knew when he lay down for the stasis, that he would not awaken until all he had known was dead and gone? Arthur had to hope that maybe—

That thought was shattered though as Merlin suddenly went very still, his face losing what little color it had managed to retain as he took in Arthur’s garb. The trousers and button-up shirt, his hiking boots and the watch Morgana had given him as a graduation gift. Then his eyes flitted over to Morgana in loose vintage trousers and white dusty collared blouse with tall boots caked in dust.

“What year is it,” he breathed, staring at Morgana’s trousers with a vacant expression.

There was nothing for it, no way to soften the blow or skirt around the issue. Arthur placed his other steadying hand on Merlin’s shoulder and prepared himself for the pain his words would cause. “2018,” he said.

Merlin’s head jerked back over to Arthur, teary eyes searching Arthur’s for any hint of a joke or dishonesty. Arthur gave his shoulder a squeeze in answer.

He had expected him to crumble, expected him to scream and yell and cry, perhaps even hit and punch and vehemently refuse to believe Arthur. He had expected denial and anger and profound sorrow. Merlin had been an expressive one back in their time at Camelot, never shying away from the truth or afraid to show Arthur how he really felt about something. He had secrets, yes that was true, but he had worn his heart on his sleeve and his done what he believed was right. Arthur had expected that same reaction now.

But what he hadn’t expected was for Merlin to do...nothing. He stared at Arthur for a beat longer before simply exhaling out an, “Oh.”

Arthur exchanged a glance with Morgana, but she looked just as shocked by Merlin’s reaction as he was.

They both turned back to Merlin as he spoke again. “They were right.”

“Who?” Morgana asked, stepping closer. “Merlin, what are you talking about?”

Arthur let one of his arms fall back to his side as Merlin met Morgana’s eyes with a somber smile. “The druids. They were right. I didn’t want to believe them but, they were right. They told me you wouldn’t return for a long time but I didn’t—”

A loud gasp sounded from across the room cutting off Merlin’s words and all three of them looked over toward the entrance to the tomb in time to see Morgause lurch away from the crystal, her face pale and drawn.

Merlin’s eyebrows rose before his whole face hardened. “Morgause,” he said, voice threatening as he slid off the dais to stand beside Arthur. Arthur’s hand moved from Merlin’s shoulder to his bicep and gave it a squeeze, whether in warning or in reassurance he didn’t know. He felt safe here with Merlin by his side, like he was free, invincible. Like the aching emptiness in his heart had finally been filled.

Like he was for once, whole.

_Because only the half can awaken that which makes it whole_

“You,” Morgause growled, pointing a threatening finger at Merlin, her eyes ablaze. “Emrys.”

Arthur could feel Merlin shaking under his hand, slight trembles that were indistinguishable to the eye. His brow furrowed in concern, but movement from Morgause pulled his attention back to her.

Morgause stepped forward and grabbed Cenred by his shirt, yanking him backward and effectively breaking his trance. Cenred let out a shout as his balance was thrown and sent him sprawling on the ground.

“Get up, you useless sack,” Morgause growled at him, her eyes locked on Merlin’s. She smirked at them. “Change of plans. The real treasure just presented itself.”

Her eyes bore into Merlin and Arthur’s blood ran cold.

“You betrayed me.” Arthur looked over to Cenred, sure he was talking to him but Cenred’s attention was on Morgause. His face was pinched in anger, long greasy hair in disarray. He looked like a madman come to raise hell.

Morgause huffed, only sparring Cenred the briefest of glances before locking back on Merlin. “You were in the way. Don’t make the same mistake twice,” she growled.

“I won’t,” Cenred said, tone edged with malice as he stood up. He raised his gun, having picked it back up after dropping it while stuck in the crystal and aimed it at Morgause’s head.

“You fool!” She hissed, now giving Cenred her full attention. With a sweeping gesture toward the three of them, she stepped toward Cenred. “You would jeopardize everything for a little petty revenge?!”

“There’s nothing petty about it,” Cenred said. And he pulled the trigger.

The shot rang loud and final through the tomb and Morgause dropped like a stone. Arthur barely had any time to react, to throw his arm over Merlin in a weak attempt to shield him from any responding ricochet before a large crystal behind where Morgause had stood shattered.

A wave of pure power blasted out of the shattered crystal, setting off an intense chain reaction through the rest of the crystals in the tomb. One by one they shattered in a ripple effect, each one exploding and releasing its own wave of pure power. Arthur could feel the waves rip through him one by one until he was sure he would shatter like the rest of the crystals. But through it all he felt Merlin’s hand latch in a vice grip onto his own and suddenly, the world _lurched_.

The waves cut off abruptly and were instead replaced by a rolling pushing and pulling sensation. The tomb seemed to wrap around itself before his eyes until it vanished completely and he was left twisting and contracting through the darkness, the only point of reality being Merlin’s hand holding onto his for dear life.

And as suddenly as it had begun, the world righted itself and Arthur found himself on an outcrop on the side of the mountain. Just around the corner to the entrance to the tomb. Outside.

Fear spiked through Arthur in an instant, all-encompassing and debilitating. If he was out here, then that meant that Morgana and Merlin were—

Arthur’s stomach pitched as his vertigo settled and he hunched over, sure he was going to be sick. Beneath his feet, the ground shook and quaked, a great rumbling echoing through the mountain beside them. For a moment, Arthur was sure that he was going to be sucked into another warp of time and space somehow and gripped the hand in his tighter.

A hand. He still held onto the hand.

Merlin’s hand.

Arthur glanced to the side from his hunched position—which did not help his mind and body settle—and felt a wave of relief. Merlin was there and Morgana beside him, both looking none the worse for wear, if a little dizzy. But they were alive, they had made it out.

And Merlin’s eyes were fading from a brilliant gold back to his trademark vibrant blue. Suddenly it all made perfect sense. He should have known.

“What the bloody fuck, Merlin!” Arthur choked out, finally able to straighten up. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to smack his former manservant or kiss him. Definitely the latter. He had, after all, just saved their lives. Again. “Where did you learn to do that?!”

“I—” but Merlin’s words were swallowed up by a wheezing exhale and he stumbled before crashing to his knees on the rough stone outcrop.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, by his side in a heartbeat as Merlin swayed, threatening to topple face-first into the dirt. “What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” He scanned Merlin’s thin frame, looking for any sign that he had been shot or wounded but there was no blood, not even a scratch. He glanced up at Morgana who was looking down at Merlin with equal concern. She shook her head, at a loss as well. “Talk to me.”

Merlin didn’t answer for a few beats, his heavy breathing the only response he gave. Arthur’s worry was ready to do something rash like call a medevac or scream for help when Merlin finally spoke, voice low and laced with exhaustion, “Just….tired. Been awhile.”

That was an understatement. If Arthur was correct in his assumption, it had been a little more than a while. Centuries. He had lain dormant for centuries and then to just wake up and use strong teleportation magic on three people, that had to take a toll on the body.

“It’s alright,” Arthur said, throwing Merlin’s arm over his shoulder and taking some of his weight. Merlin wobbled as he pushed to his feet and Arthur wrapped his other arm around his waist to steady him. “I got you.”

Merlin let out a soft chuckle. “I swear this used be the other way around.”

“Time yields change, my friend.”

Merlin glanced over at him with a look of mock bewilderment. “Was that—did you just impart wisdom?” He shook his head with a huff of laughter. “Wow, times really have changed.”

Arthur was saved from what would have been a very witty response by the sound of someone coming around the corner of the mountainside. Several someones. From the entrance to the tomb.

He felt Merlin tense in his hold but Arthur just squeezed his side in reassurance. He knew that gait.  

Sure enough, Gwaine appeared around one of Cenred’s men’s guns in his hand and trained on them. He lowered it and held out his hand to stave off the others as they all barrelled around the corner. “Arthur?” Gwaine’s face was one of pure shock, a look mirrored by the rest of the group. “How did you—I don’t—The tomb is collapsing! We thought you two were dead!” Then his eyes fell on Merlin handing off Arthur’s shoulder and his brow furrowed. “What the hell? Who is this.”

Right, they didn’t remember.

He hefted up Merlin further on his shoulder. “This is Merlin, the man from the tomb.”


End file.
